Lamplight
by X-Hayze-chan-X
Summary: Chibs/Juice. Chibs contemplates his feelings for the younger man, thinking he'll get some peace of mind when he figures them out. Boy, has he got another thing coming. Rated M for sexual situations and tons of swearing; this is Sons of Anarchy, after all.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so... I watched this series with my dad. It became the way we bonded. And over the course of watching this show (mostly around season 4), I started to ship Chibs/Juice. That's pretty much my entire point, here. I'm going to skip all the usual shit I go through with explaining how I came up with this and blablabla, but I just want whomever's reading this to know that there is not enough Chibs/Juice and I'd be absolutely thrilled if someone would write more. **

**So basically, this is going to be a multi-chaptered fic, but I think I'll keep it short. This WILL be Chibs/Juice. I hope you guys like it. 2,200 words. I is are rather proud.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sons of Anarchy. If I were Sutter, I'd probably have a lot of money and there would be a lot of gay bikers. /shot.**

It's dark, but that makes everything no less lively; on the contrary, everything seems to be much livelier than ever. Sam Crow is celebrating, though what they're celebrating has become virtually lost in the smoke, alcohol, and friendly fighting, though it's certainly still heated; nobody's holding back just for camraderie. In fact, they're fighting harder because they're against friends. It's as if they have something to prove, have to keep their masculinity out of question. The only difference is that they're more careful, and not out to cause any real damage. When any of the old ladies ask or scoff at it, the men scoff back and say, "It's a Sons thing. I don't expect you to get it." There aren't any chicks here, though. Not tonight. This is a man's night, and God dammit, they're going to have their fun.

It seems like the light gets brighter around a certain member's head. Of course, that could be the beer talking... Then again, Chibs isn't all that drunk to begin with. He can hold his alcohol pretty damn well. He hasn't been drinking that much, either; he kept setting down his bottles, forgetting where they were, and opening a new one over and over. The Scotsman then notices the lamp directly behind the other's head and laughs slightly, shaking his head and bringing the bottle in his hand up to his lips. He must be more drunk than he thought to even start to humour that romantic 'angel' bullshit. He's too damn old for such flights of fancy, even if he is thinking it only scathingly and drunkenly.

Still, despite the sweat and the drunken look in his eyes, Juice looks... well, not angelic, per se, but pure. This is Juicey-boy at his prime, when he looks his most natural, at ease, happy. This is a sight that Chibs truly enjoys. After all the shit that everyone's been through, he doesn't think he can handle seeing Juice unhappy ever again. He likes that smile, misses that carefree attitude the hacker used to have. He was always laughing at everything, seemed like he thought life was a joke. Those kinds of people usually kind of piss Chibs off, but it always just seemed so natural on the other, and therefore Juice was the exception. He was always the exception. Chibs usually hated making exceptions to anything, but Juice changed all that too, and he even made him more carefree by mere association. The elder would never know how he did it, but he was glad for the change in himself.

It seemed like that was gone, and it really hurt. Now, however, it feels good to have the old Juicey back, even if it's just because of some drunken idiocy. They're with the Club, having fun with the other boys. Who really cares if Juice has to be blind stinking drunk to have that smile again?

God dammit, Chibs cares. That's yet another thing for which Juice is the exception: if it were anyone else, he'd rather them be blind stinking drunk. He still cares for his brothers, sure, but if they're happier drunk, he'd rather them be drunk. That is, if it isn't actually hurting them. Once it gets to be a problem, he'd help them pick up the pieces. He'd never make any preemptive efforts though, never try to fix the problem before it becomes one. With Juice, it's different. Chibs wants real happiness for this one, not just an alcohol-induced haze of momentary contentment.

It's this moment in which the Scotsman takes a step back, leans against the wall, and just thinks. He contemplates his feelings, something that he usually likes to shy away from; it feels necessary when dealing with his confusing and ever-present, undefined, yet strong feelings for the Puerto Rican. It's not the most manly thing to do, but God dammit, he needs some peace of mind or he'll never be able to have any fun. Besides, he's getting old. He can do whatever the fuck he wants; he's lived long enough and through enough to earn him the right to do anything and not have his masculinity questioned.

"I think I'll take up knitting," he decides suddenly, laughing to himself as the murmured words leave his lips.

Momentary silliness aside, he takes another swig of beer and sets it down beside him, leaning back and closing his eyes. He's just about to go back to this whole figuring out his feelings shit, but Jax startles him out of it with a rough hand coming down on his shoulder. "You alright, man?" the blond asks, a bit of concern showing through.

"'M fine," he grunts, letting loose a small smile and acting quite a bit more drunk than he actually is. He's not sure why, but it just seems like he should. "Got a bit of a headache is all. It'll pass."

"Alright. If you're sure. I'll tell the other guys not to bother you 'til you're feeling better." Jax walks off after giving him another pat, and Chibs snorts to himself. Is he the only one there who's anywhere close to sober?

Finally, he gets a moment of peace, and he closes his eyes again, blocking out all the activity around him. It's at this point he lets his thoughts wander; he's just intoxicated enough that he can't get them to go where he wants them to. At first, he thinks about Fiona. He was so enamored with her, almost obsessed, and when he lost her... It felt as if he had shattered. Now, however, she just doesn't matter as much. He supposes that the time spent apart is what did it. When she was gone, his memories of her turned sweeter than how things had actually been. When she was back, things weren't like he remembered, and she had stayed estranged from him in the end, though this time it was a mutual agreement.

There was no doubt that he loved her, once upon a time. Now, however, things are different. She's different. He's different. And that's the most important part. Chibs is a completely different man from who he was back then. His train of thought skips a track here, and he's left contemplating just what changed him. He has no doubt that what Jimmy did was a large factor in his metamorphosis, for lack of a better word. It was the straw that broke the camel's back, the finger on the trigger. If those things had never happened to him (he brings a hand up to his face absently, tracing the scars lightly with his fingers) then he never would have come to California. He would never be part of Sam Crow. Most importantly, he never would have met Juice.

...Most importantly? What does that even mean? He shakes his head, a slight frown pressing lines into his face, which has begun to show permanent lines already. Still, it brings his thoughts back to where they were originally intended: Juice. It's already apparent that Juice is incredibly important to him. This isn't something that he could deny even if he's dead sober. The Puerto Rican seems to mean even more to him now, though, after all the shit that's happened. The question now is simple: exactly how much does Juice mean to him?

Damn, that's a tough one to answer. Care isn't really a quantifiable substance, is it? Forget this, he decides irritably. There has to be some way to figure out his feelings. He had been so sure only days ago that this was just some sort of fatherly affection, but there was something in him saying otherwise. If it wasn't fatherly, then why and how did he love Juice?

...Oh God. No. Love? Did he just think 'love'? Fuck, yeah, he did. 'Calm down,' he thinks to himself. So it's not fatherly or brotherly or friendly love. That still leaves... Wait, what does that leave?

He knows exactly what, but he can't get his head around it. He just can't. There is absolutely no way that Chibs can be in love with Juice. There's just no romantic (or sexual) attraction there. There can't be.

Forcing himself to calm down, forcing his thoughts to slow and become semi-coherent again, he opens his eyes to take a peek at the man in question. It doesn't take long to find him; he's standing in the same place, leaning against a railing and laughing. He's drunk and sweaty, but the way the sweat makes his shirt cling to his nicely toned muscles is enticing, to say the least. Juice finally seems to notice the sweat, and takes off his shirt, wiping his face with it before throwing the wet clothing to the ground. The elder man's mouth goes dry. There's something about this all that just looks and feels so right. The younger man is happy-looking, alive, real. There's nothing undesirable about him in this moment.

Except the fact that he's a man, God dammit! He's not just a man, but a substantially younger man, too. Chibs forces his eyes away, scowling. There's no way in hell he's attracted to Juice. There's just no possible way that he can be a fag. He's always liked women, not men.

But now he likes a man. Hypothetically, that is. And there's a word for that, isn't there? For someone who likes men and women? Bisexual; that was the word. He supposes that he could deal with being bisexual if he has to... And the age difference isn't _that_ bad. They are both fully grown adults, after all, and if both of them consent, what's the problem? Hell, the Romans did it.

But Chibs isn't a Roman, and these are a bunch of shitty excuses. Still, it almost proves something. He's willing to make these shitty excuses if it'll make him able to give this a chance. If he really loves Juice in _that_ way, it should be okay. He knows he's not a Goddamn fag. Besides, as previously stated, he's been alive long enough and gone through enough shit that he should be allowed to do anything without his masculinity being questioned. Furthermore, why should he care? The Club doesn't have any rules against this sort of thing, and they all trust him. It _should_ only be marginally awkward.

This is assuming he even feels this shit, though. There's no way for him to be sure...

Or is there?

Before he can even be sure of what he's doing, he's stumbling over to the man who's been the center of his whirling thoughts for almost half an hour. "'Sup, man?" Juice asks, a carefree grin on his face, eyes half-lidded. Fucking_ beautiful_.

And Chibs is kissing him, just like that. He ignores all of his thoughts and just focuses on the sloppy way their lips mesh together. It's... different. There's no long hair to thread his fingers through, no curvy waist to rest his hands on, and the lips under his own aren't soft, delicate, or plump. Juice is all hardness and angles and there's not a Goddamn thing that Chibs can honestly say he doesn't like about this. He gets a real shock when he realizes that, after the initial moment of panic and confusion gives way, Juice is kissing him back. And it's more than he expected it to be. If it's not that kind of love (which, by the way his heart is beating and the warm, happy feeling in his chest, it very likely is) then he'll eat his right hand.

Speaking of right hands, there's one threading in his hair, and a tongue in his mouth, and the already-present taste of beer overpowers his sense of taste. It doesn't matter, though, because this feels so good, and...

And he realizes what he's doing and comes to a stop. what the fuck _is_ he doing? Okay, he's proved it: he loves Juice in that way, definitely. Why the hell is he taking advantage of a drunken boy? There's something wrong with him; there has to be. He pulls away, and he must look as frightened as he is, because Juice gives him this weird sort of look. He almost looks _apologetic_.

"God," Chibs slurs. He feels so low for it, but he has to pretend he's drunk, or everything will go to shit. He just knows it. "I'm sorry, Juicey-boy. I didn't... I... Shet..." The Scotsman stumbles back, and Juice reaches out ever so slightly, as if to grab his hand, a look of hurt on his face. Chibs does the one thing he can think of: he turns tail and runs like hell.

He thinks he can hear Juice calling after him, but he pushes it to the back of his head. He's probably just imagining it, he tells himself. Jax stops him on his way out, and he says "I... I just... Oh God." He shakes his head, feeling pained by his actions. "I... I just don't feel well. I'm gonna go home. See ya later, Jax..."

Again, he runs. He runs to his bike, speeds home, and flops onto his bed, falling quickly into a very fitful sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Damn, chapter 2 already. xD; I guess I just really like writing this fic. Oh well. I hope you like this. :3 (1202 words, and I still don't own SOA. Also, a bit of sexual content here. Now we're getting somewhere. /shot.)**

_"Juice..." Chibs groans, eyes fluttering shut. The both of them are shirtless, and working on becoming pantsless as well. Their lips mesh together again and again, making a wet sound every time they part. His hands trace the other's bare chest, then trail along his sides and up his back, and their chests press together. Juice's flesh is warm, and he's hard. It shouldn't be so exciting, the way their erections rub together through their jeans, but it can't be helped. Of course, it's not like he wants to 'fix' it anyway. He likes it this way. He feels a hand wrap around his length, and it's not his own. It feels so good, and-_

The Scotsman wakes up. This has happened for the past three nights, ever since that damned party where he kissed Juice. He hasn't answered his phone, he's ignored everyone who knocked at his door, and his motorcycle's been sorely neglected. His story is that he isn't feeling well, but he's sure they can see through him. Still, if anyone thinks it's any different than what he says, it's not like it matters. They're not saying anything, after all. He's glad that they're giving him this, at least. Whether he's really sick or not (and he feels like he is, but in a different way entirely than what he's told the boys), he really just wants to be alone.

He's startled out of his thoughts by a knock at the door, and he sighs as he gets up to answer it. He's just woken up and it's past noon; at least whomever it is will have a reason to believe he isn't feeling well. When he opens the door, he finds none other than Jax Teller. This can't be good. Jax has that look about him, the one that says "I want to talk and I'm determined to get information out of you one way or another." He only has this look when it's something incredibly important. What in the hell is it?

"Nice morning wood." It's the closest thing he'll get to a greeting, and Chibs feels a small blush creep up on him.

Still, he replies, without a beat. "I'm pretty sure it's afternoon, brother; it's just wood at this point." Jax laughs a bit, and so does Chibs, before the obligatory "So what brings you here?" comes up.

"We need to talk," the blond replies, walking in, the humour fading quickly from his features. Typical Jax: straight to the point, skip absolutely everything that would make anything even remotely civil or polite.

"About what?" Chibs doesn't bother with formalities either. There's not much of a point. He sits down at the kitchen table, and Jax sits down across from him, leaning in.

"What the hell is going on with you, man?" he asks, looking intently at the older man.

"What do you mean?" The Scotsman can't help but look away. He's pretty sure he knows what Jax means. It's probably about what happened. Either Jax knows that Chibs is into Juice, or he's not going to rest until he finds out. "You know damn well what," Jax shoots back, starting to seem a little pissed off. He's starting to raise his voice. "I see you running from the party saying you aren't feeling good, and then I don't see you for three days? You ignore all our damn calls, too. And Juice..." Chibs actually flinches at the name, something that he's sure Jax sees but says nothing about yet, "he's been acting weird as hell. He gets this weird tortured look whenever someone mentions you, like he did something wrong..." There's a pause, and then, "Did you two get in a fight or something?"

It's so absurd, the older man can't seem to do anything but stare for a moment, and then laugh bitterly. "No, brother, far from it. Hell, part of me wishes we'd got in a fight."

"So what the hell is it? Come on, man; I'm your friend. I don't wanna see either of you hurting like this. Something went down, and I wanna know what."

With a small sigh, Chibs leans back in his chair and lights a cigarette, weighing his options. He could lie, but Jax would find out eventually. Besides, how would he be able to come up with something believable that fast? He can't really keep it a secret from Jax either; if he refuses to answer, the Teller boy would find out some other way, somehow, and everything would just be worse. No, it would just be better for all involved if he tells the truth now. "You gotta promise that what anyone says never leaves this table, okay?" Jax agrees, and he takes a deep breath. "I guess the best way to put it is... this old dog found love."

Jax looks incredulous. "This is about a chick? What, do you and Juice dig the same one or something?" His eyes grow wide and he asks, a bit more softly, "Did Juice and Fiona-"

If Chibs was drinking something, he would have choked on it. "No, no, it's nothing like that," he says, chuckling a bit. "And I definitely don't love Fiona... at least, not like that. Not anymore." He takes another puff of his cigarette.

"Then what is it?" The younger man is impatient again. "I can't see how a girl ties into any of this."

"That's because no girls tie into any of this."

"But you said-"

"That I was in love," finished Chibs.

"But-"

"I never said it was with a broad."

The silence is palpable. It's a moment before Jax is able to speak. "...Shit, man... Juice?" Chibs nods, and the blond continues, "...I thought you liked chicks."

"I do," comes the calm-sounding response.

"Man, last I checked, Juice isn't a chick."

The Scotsman cracks a smirk at that. "Are you kidding me? Damn it, I've been lied to all this time!" The both of them laugh, but they're kind of uncomfortable.

"So... You told him or something?" Jax questions. "Is that why he's acting all weird?"

"...Not exactly."

"Then what happened? Dammit, stop beating around the bush and get to the Goddamn point!"

"I kissed him, a'right?"

There's a silence again, and all Jax can say is "...Oh my God."

"It's a mess, ain't it?" Chibs says with a bitter laugh.

"Yeah..." There's a pause, and then, "The Club's not gonna like this."

"The Club doesn't have a rule about it," the Scotsman retorts, glaring slightly.

Jax doesn't have anything to say to that, so he lights a cigarette of his own as Chibs puts his own cigarette butt out. "...I think he feels the same way," Jax finally says. Chibs stares at him with wide eyes, and is about to ask what he means, but Jax just continues. "I guess... I don't know. I can't explain it. But I think you should talk to him." With that, he gets up and walks out. There isn't another word exchanged between the two, but Chibs knows that this is pretty much Jax giving his blessing, and he smiles just a bit. He'll have to talk to Juice tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay so I won't likely be online for another three days, but I should have more up when I come back. I have to be brief. I hope you guys enjoy this! 1331 words and I still don't own SOA. By the way, this is supposed to be short. I'm bad with long projects.**

He's had a lot of time to think about it between now and yesterday, of what he's going to say and do. It's been nearly twenty four hours since he's decided to talk to Juice, and he hasn't been able to come up with a single Goddamn thing to say. What the hell are you supposed to say in a situation like this, anyway? "Hey, Juicey-boy, sorry about that awkward kiss that you probably don't remember because you seemed like you were drunk off your ass, but I just wanted to say that I think I'm in love with you and I want to fuck you. Hard." Yeah, he figures that's probably not the best thing to say.

As he's driving to the clubhouse, his hands begin to sweat, and he's glad he's wearing gloves; he doesn't want his palms to slip on the handlebars. He'd rather have control over his bike and not crash. He forces his mind to stay on track, and finally he pulls his bike into the parking lot. Some of the guys come over, ask him if he's feeling better, and he laughs and says that it was just "a nasty little bug," assuring them that it's gone now. They walk away, and that just leaves one person. Juice. The boy had been standing behind the other three, and at a bit of a distance. Chibs hadn't noticed at first, but there he was. The Scotsman's stomach exploded in nervous fluttering (of course, he'd never call it butterflies. That was incredibly stupid. It was more churning than fluttering anyway) when he caught sight of the nervous-looking Puerto Rican.

"What's eatin' ya, boy?" he asks, slinging an arm over the younger man's shoulder. He's made an unconscious decision in that moment, and he now realizes it. He's going to pretend he doesn't remember. Pretend it was an accident. Take the Goddamn coward's way out. Oh well... it's better than losing the boy.

Juice shifts uncomfortably, and Chibs feels a spark of panic. He pushes it down and listens attentively as Juice speaks in a nervous manner. "...Nothing. I mean, actually... yeah. Uh. Can we like, y'know, talk?"

"'Bout what?" Chibs asks, but Juice just shakes his head.

"Not here. In private. It's... It's about a few days ago."

Well, shit.

"What happened a few days ago?" The Scotsman sounds more nervous than he intended, and he curses himself for it.

Juice gives an exasperated sigh and drags the elder over to his dorm within the clubhouse, locking the door. Chibs can see Jax looking at them before they're locked in, and he sends a pleading look over to him that practically screams 'get me out of this!' Jax only laughs to himself and shakes his head. The message is clear: 'you're on your own, man.'

Chibs scowls at the blond's treachery, but his attention is soon focused on Juice, who has his hands on Chibs' shoulders. Their noses are mere centimetres apart, and Chibs swallows thickly. He tries to force his breathing to stay even, but it's difficult as hell when Juice is looking into his eyes like that, and so close he can feel the lad's breath falling heavy on his lips.

"You been sick, huh?"

The question breaks the silence and his erratic thoughts, and it takes him a second too long to respond, working his jaw soundlessly for a moment before stammering, "Aye, nasty little bug..."

Juice smirks like he knows a big secret, and it's a little irritating and frightening all at once. Chibs isn't sure what that look's about, but he's not quite sure he likes it. "You know I don't buy that load of shit for a second, right?" Chibs is about to respond, somehow, but Juice cuts off his futile attempts at eloquence. "I know you know what you did, Chibsie." He smirks a bit at the nickname, and it irritates Chibs that he can be so calm, playing with his emotions like that when the boy, he's sure, knows damn well what he's doing to him.

"Enlighten me," he says, leaning in just a few centimetres closer.

And then, out of fucking nowhere, Juice's lips are on his. It's warm and firm and much more caring than the drunken kiss he initiated a few days ago. Before he can stop himself, he's kissing back almost hungrily. Juice's fingers tangle in his greying hair, and his own fingers go down to rest on the younger's angular hips. A tongue pokes out to swipe along his lips, and he opens his mouth and sucks it in.

It really is nothing like kissing a woman. Fundamentally, it's the same: two mouths, two tongues, and a hell of a lot of spit. However, there's none of that softness a woman has. There's just muscle and bones and an all-encompassing heat. This is the most passionate kiss he's had in a damn long while, and he'll be damned if it's not one of the most enjoyable he's had in his life.

They pull away after a minute, or really Juice does, to breathe. "What... the hell... was that?" Chibs pants, dumbstruck.

Juice only smiles at him a little sheepishly, a deep crimson saturating his cheeks. "You told me to enlighten you... So I did."

"Well great. I'm enlightened. Now what?"

"...Why?"

The question hangs in the air for a moment, before Chibs responds, "It's like I told Jax yesterday... Stupid as it sounds, his old dog found love."

"Doesn't sound stupid to me," Juice retorts, looking him in the eyes. "I found it a while ago... didn't wanna say anything." He's been reduced to mumbling, and Chibs can barely understand a word he's saying.

"Really, now? And who's the lucky lady?"

The younger man snorts. "She ain't much of a looker, for a lady. She's going grey, and she has a Goddamn beard. Her name's Chibs, and she's the craziest bastard I know."

There's a pause, and then they both burst into laughter. "Yeah? Well, my girl's flat-chested as hell, and at least yours has hair. Juicey-girl's almost fuckin' bald!" They laugh a little more, and it feels wonderful to be like this with each other. Then the old question comes back up.

"So... what now?"

Chibs doesn't really know how to respond. He's never been good with this sappy emotional shit. "I guess... If the both of us old girls love each other the same... we might as well give it a shot."

There's no question of how they're going to tell the guys, or even if they will. There's no question of what this is gong to mean for them, for the future. There are no words exchanged as the two of them come together again, another kiss shared between newfound lovers.


End file.
